Gotcha Ch. 07

As if to highlight this sense of detachment it wasn't long before Jen heard muffled talking. It would appear that someone else had entered the room. trixie? Possibly, but Jen neither knew, nor did it make any difference. She felt the leash being fitted to her collar, her wrists were fastened behind her and she was led off into the unknown.

Jen guessed that they were crossing the hotel lobby when they stopped. Whist she stood waiting when she felt hands on her, checking the piercings on her nipples and then on her labia. Unknown fingers checked her tail and then probed inside her as if confirming that she was, indeed, aroused and that she was slick with her juices. Without the hood this would have been almost unbearably embarrassing, to have someone, heaven knew whom, taking such liberties with her in this semi-public place. However, it was it was as if it were happening to someone else and she even moved slightly, opening her legs to provide easier access. As to whether being aroused was the 'correct' response, again it was as if it were not her body, not her reaction and her state of arousal was beyond her control.

And then they were off again. Jen felt the cool of the night air before they got in a car, a long drive, some more night air and then the muffled sounds of people having fun. They had arrived.

Once at the party the sense of unreality continued. Jen followed wherever she was led and was left, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, whilst the party went on around her. From time to time she felt hands examining her, fondling her breasts and her groin or playing with her tail; evidently there was a sense in which she was on display. Even with her muffled hearing she was aware that things were hotting up; the music and conversation were getting louder and more and more attention was being paid to her. She was led until she had to step up, possibly onto some sort of stage; her wrists were refastened so that she was hanging from the ceiling, almost on tiptoe. She felt a body pressing against hers, lips and hands caressing and teasing. Teeth nibbled at her breasts, nipping at her, teasing the nipples, pulling gently at the rings.

Even with no sight and muffled hearing, she was increasingly aware that she was part of some sort of show, that her ever increasing arousal was for their benefit, not hers. She had no idea who was teasing her body, indeed, she didn't want to know. But whoever it was was no novice and their kisses were sending delicious tingles straight to her groin. Sensuously the kisses moved lower until Jen guessed that whoever was doing this was kneeling before her, and, without thinking, she moved her legs apart, opening herself up, making herself available. Nearer and nearer the unseen lips kissed and kissed, teasing at her lower belly and upper thighs. Jen couldn't help but squirm, trying desperately to end the teasing, to feel any touch, any contact on her clitoris, anything to take her higher, to end this tease. And then, just as she felt the lips upon her lips, a tongue easing her open, promising the release she now craved, the kissing stopped, The hands that had been holding her buttocks, pulling her groin towards the unseen head, were pulled away leaving her dangling in every sense of the word.

Briefly, far too briefly, some fingers plunged inside her and, as they were removed, she heard through the hood the muffled laughter from the room. Then there was a pause before hands gripped her, turned her sideways and pushed her so she swung gently forward to discover, just at the edge of what she could reach, there was some sort of protuberance, something which she could rub herself against.

Straining against the way she was dangling, she worked herself against this; if she really pushed she could feel that it was shaped so it would fit inside her and, by doing so, she was finally getting what she so required. If only they would move it closer, just a little closer. All thought of what she must look like, how desperate she must seem, was gone from her; her only focus was between her thighs and the actions required to satisfy this need within her. She felt hands against her buttocks pushing her forward, now she could even get a modicum of penetration, feel the deeply ribbed shape of the shaft push maybe an inch or so inside her but, all to soon, she was left to dangle again. Again and again she was thus guided until, suddenly, it, whatever it was, was pushed towards her and she was impaled, the shaft filling her completely.

That was the trigger, that was the release and, furiously riding the shaft to extract every ounce of pleasure, to squeeze out every iota of desire, she rubbed herself feverishly back and forth until her body exploded with sensations as she came again and again and again.

As she hung, limp and bedraggled, still impaled, too sated, too exhausted, to do anything other than remain suspended by her wrists awaiting release, she became aware of applause. It would seem that her display had been a crowd pleaser, that she had given them the show they wanted.

Gently, almost tenderly, she was unfastened, eased off the dildo, and, supported on either side, taken off the stage where was knelt down next to someone and she collapsed sideways, resting her head in the unknown lap. Was it Wendy? She neither knew nor really cared; she just needed time to recover, time to let her battered body recuperate. As she knelt a hand stroked her head, playing with her hair. This had to be Wendy; she felt safe and at home. Indeed, with the afterglow of her orgasm, the 'full' feeling from the plug holding her tail in her arse, and her head resting on her Mistress's lap she felt relaxed, almost content, and she started to drift off, not exactly sleeping, but in a semi trance, detached, floating, luxuriating in the delicious sensations.

The rest of the evening was a blur for Jen. She was aware that, to an extent, she was a centre of attention. Several people came up to Wendy and asked about her and, a couple of times, the gag was removed and she was used to service other women. She guessed the party was petty much an orgy and lending her out was part of Wendy's joining in. Vaguely she wondered whenever she was away from Wendy whether she was enjoying the services of some other slave -- of course she was but it had all become so impersonal that Jen felt only the slightest twinge of jealousy.

Jen was at the limits of exhaustion when, at last, it was time to go home. It wasn't just the physical exhaustion although it had, after all, been a long day; rather it was an emotional exhaustion. The intensity of life inside the hood meant that everything was magnified and she had had more than enough. She was therefore glad to be helped to her feet, to be led outside, to feel the cool night air on her body and then the subdued drive home and the short journey through the hotel until they arrived at last back at the room.

Even then Jen had to wait for Wendy to get undressed before she felt the cuffs being removed and, finally, the straps of the hood were undone. As she emerged into the unaccustomed light Jen felt overwhelmed by it all and stumbled forward, only to be caught by Wendy.

"All a bit much for you?" Wendy asked.

"Please, Mistress..." Jen started but Wendy stopped her with a kiss, a kiss full on the lips.

"Shh now," Wendy said as she broke away. "Come along, it's bed time."

Jen glanced down at the dog basket but Wendy shook her head and led the amazed Jen to the bed. She pulled back the covers and together they slipped under the soft satin sheets.

"I've had plenty of girls in my time but never one quite like you. You're pretty special; do you know that, piglet?" Wendy ran her fingers through Jen's hair. "Clever, pretty, and very sexy; you're quite the one. Goodnight piglet."

Wendy rolled over and switched off the lights. Jen lay there beside her, amazed and happy as she quietly slipped off to sleep.